


Fleeting

by rudbeckia



Series: Geraskier fics [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Companionable Snark, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mentioned Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, pillow prince Geralt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:07:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23492947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudbeckia/pseuds/rudbeckia
Summary: After battling the Djinn, after Yennefer, Geralt still can’t sleep. Perhaps Jaskier can help.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geraskier fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1699972
Comments: 4
Kudos: 172





	Fleeting

Jaskier groaned as Geralt turned over for the umpteenth time since crawling, exhausted, into the bed Jaskier earned for them by redistributing wealth. Specifically, redistributing some silver from the Mayor’s house to the innkeeper’s palm. Well. From what the Elven medic had said, its previous owner wouldn’t be needing it any more.

“Are you still awake?” Geralt’s voice was a low and quiet rumble like thunder to far away to worry about.  
Jaskier sighed. “By all that is good and pure, Geralt, will you _please_ go to sleep?”  
“Hmm. I wish—”  
“No! No more wishes, Geralt, You know where that leads.”  
“Hmm.”

Geralt rolled over again, pulling the blankets with him and exposing Jaskier’s backside to the chill of the night air. Jaskier yelped, pulled at the blankets and rolled onto his back, shifting closer to Geralt so that he could cover himself.  
“For crying out loud, you big oaf. Anyone would think you’d been unlucky enough never to have shared a bed before. Have you no manners?” Jaskier listened to the silence. Not a sound from Geralt. Not even a breath or a _hmm_ or a soft _fuck._

“Stop pretending to be dead, Geralt. You have,” Jaskier said eventually. “Haven’t you? Shared a bed. Not just to fuck. I mean, we both saw you with Yennefer and—“  
“Fleeting,” Geralt growled. “She called me _fleeting._ ”  
“She—” Jaskier crammed his fist into his mouth to stifle the guffaw that threatened to explode from his chest. “Oh,” he said when he recovered control of his laughter. “Oh dear. I have been called many things, but never _that._ ” Jaskier rolled onto his side, facing Geralt’s shoulders. “I have been called bastard, degenerate, despicable, liar, deviant, villainous, profligate, a threat to virtue, treacherous, lecherous, filthy, pimply and pox-ridden which I assure you are both _absolutely_ untrue, depraved...” Jaskier huffed out a laugh. “But never _fleeting_. I mean, that would _hurt_ the ‘little bard’s’ feelings deeply.”  
“It had been,” Geralt replied in his defence, “a very long time.”  
“I don’t remember you being _fleeting_ the last time you were with me,” Jaskier said, resting a warm hand on Geralt’s shoulder. “After that awful gig. You know, the one where Queen Calanthe disturbed one of my best songs by showing up covered in blood?”  
“The one where you dressed me up like a fool,” Geralt said. “In silk and ribbon. Like you.”  
“You allowed me to dress you,” Jaskier countered. “And you are not the type to allow anything you don’t want. Therefore you _liked_ it.”

Geralt turned again, this time to face Jaskier. “Hmm,” he said.  
“So your pleasures with the lovely but terrifying Yennefer were _fleeting,_ ” Jaskier said with a smile forming on his face. “Perhaps that is why you’re having trouble dropping off. Still got too much pent up energy and frustration.”  
“Hmm.”  
“ _Hmm_ yes, or _Hmm_ no?”  
“Hmm.”  
“Be like that. I was too out of it to enjoy Yennefer’s orgy. Besides, an orgy is far more fun when all participants agree to it. I think I might be feeling a little _pent up_ myself.”  
“Hmm.”  
Jaskier watched the glint of reflected moonlight in Geralt’s eye vanish and reappear as he blinked, then raised his hand to stroke Geralt’s stray hair back from his face. The glint vanished again and stayed away, and Jaskier smiled.

Jaskier stroked Geralt’s hair for a minute more, soft scratches of his fingertips through Geralt’s thick, white mane, then he cupped Geralt’s face and kissed him once gently. Geralt sighed and shifted onto his back. Jaskier pushed himself up onto one elbow and leaned over Geralt to kiss him again.  
“You prefer something slower, don’t you?” Another soft kiss.  
“There’s enough heroic action in your life.” Kiss.  
“Enough of having to fight.” Kiss.  
“Fucking doesn’t have to feel like fighting.” Kiss.  
“It’s not a battle with a winner and a loser, there are two—”  
“Shut up, Jaskier.”  
“But—”  
“You better not be writing a song about two losers.”

Jaskier grinned. “Fine. I won’t,” he lied, kissing Geralt again and finding his lips softer and parted, Geralt’s head lifting to meet the touch. Geralt pushed his arm under Jaskier and stroked his back then pulled him closer so that Jaskier lay partly on top of Geralt, the ‘little bard’ half-hard at the thought of what he wanted to do to Geralt while this passive mood lasted, and pressed against Geralt’s hip. Jaskier stroked from Geralt’s shoulder to his hip in one long, slow movement, kissing along his jaw, down his neck, trailing his tongue across Geralt’s collarbone and making Geralt groan softly. Jaskier shuffled lower, lips and tongue and teeth finding Geralt’s rough nipples, hand on Geralt’s hip sliding across to his cock and teasing it with feathery fingertips while Geralt tightened his grip on him and quietly said, _fuck!_

“Is that what you want?” Jaskier said quietly, fingers massaging around the base of Geralt’s stiffening cock and playing with his balls. “To be made love to, slowly?”  
“Hmm,” Geralt said.  
“In that case, I will lavish attention on ‘little Geralt’ while you lie back and think of Rivia.”

Geralt grumbled without real words. Jaskier resumed his gentle teasing, kissing whichever part of Geralt happened to be in front of him as he shuffled lower down the bed, missing Geralt’s cock and laughing softly at Geralt’s groan of disappointment when he moved from lower stomach, with his nose just brushing the side of Geralt’s shaft, to the crease where his thigh met his hip. After a couple of minutes, Jaskier relented and with pointed tongue traced the line of that crease to Geralt’s balls. Geralt gave a little moan of approval and parted his legs to let Jaskier clamber over and settle between them.

“Hello, little witcher,” Jaskier said, planting a kiss on the head of Geralt’s cock. “Long time no see.”  
“Stop taking to my cock,” Geralt growled.  
“Gosh, isn’t he grumpy!” Jaskier licked a stripe from base to tip then blew across it. Geralt cursed and tightened his abdomen, gripped Jaskier’s hair, then relented and stroked Jaskier’s head instead. “Trust me, Geralt,” Jaskier said.  
“No,” Geralt replied, but Jaskier felt his muscles relax all the same.

Jaskier sank down a little more, sucking kisses onto Geralt’s cock from tip to base, and pushing a broad, soft tongue under Geralt’s balls while Geralt quietly moaned and hummed and caught his breath. Jaskier sucked first one ball into his mouth, pulling at its rough-textured skin with his lips and tongue, then the other, feeling the twitch of Geralt’s cock whenever he found a particularly sensitive spot and lavished attention on it. When Geralt tensed again, Jaskier pulled off and drew himself up Geralt’s broad body to kiss him, grinding against him and getting the little bard fully hard too. Geralt’s hands landed on his arse and pulled them tightly together at the hips while Geralt thrust up. Jaskier taped Geralt’s cheek with his palm.

“Oh no, there’s no hurry. Didn’t I say trust me?”  
“Hmm.”  
“Trust me.”

Geralt released Jaskier, and Jaskier kissed him again, slipping a hand between them to clasp Geralt’s cock and massage it with just enough pressure to keep Geralt interested but too little to bring him off before Jaskier was ready. With his other hand, Jaskier reached for the bottle of oil he’d left next to the candle stump on the little table beside the bed. He knelt between Geralt’s thighs to uncork it and smoothed some oil over his fingers then, still holding the bottle in his other hand, slipped his fingers back along the seam behind Geralt’s balls to his hole. Geralt bent his knees up, feet flat on the bed, and raised his head to watch Jaskier.  
“I want to make you feel good,” Jaskier said. “With my fingers and my mouth—and oh-ho-ho you know I can do that for you—and with the little bard too if you’ll let me.”  
Geralt let his head sag back onto the pillows and raised his hips a little higher.  
“Hmm,” he said.

Jaskier found it increasingly difficult to judge when to hold back. He slipped two fingers into Geralt, twisting and thrusting slowly, swirling his tongue around the head of Geralt’s cock, until he feared from Geralt’s moans and curses that his witcher was surely going to come, sudden and hard, before the little bard was in him. Geralt’s hands fisted in the bedcovers and released again.  
“Stop! Wait. Do it,” Geralt commanded. “Now. Before—”  
“On it!” Jaskier said, withdrawing his fingers from Geralt’s tight warmth. He poured more oil into his hand and spread it liberally on his own cock, then over Geralt’s entrance, then more on his cock. He pushed Geralt’s knees higher, guided the head of his cock to Geralt’s entrance and pushed in slowly.

Once buried as deep as he could go, Jaskier and Geralt both let out long breaths. Jaskier thrust once slowly and Geralt wrapped his powerful legs around Jaskier’s back to lock them together. Jaskier set a slow rhythm, shifting slightly until he could see from Geralt’s face that he was in _exactly_ the right position. Geralt’s expression, grey in the silver moonlight that fell through the unshuttered window, was one of tense anticipation, with head angled back, eyes half closed, mouth wordlessly open. Jaskier felt his own pleasure rise as he gazed at his witcher and imagined how he would look as he came, how he would cry out _Jaskier!_ in joyful relief.

At least he would in the song in Jaskier’s head right now. Jaskier clasped Geralt’s neglected cock and stroked it in time with his own increasingly frantic thrusts until Geralt gripped the blankets and pulled, tensed his abdomen and came over his chest and stomach, calling out, _”fu-hu-hu-hu-huck!”_

Jaskier followed seconds later then collapsed and lay warm and sated on top of Geralt. He pulled the blankets over them both, hooked his arms around Geralt’s shoulders and kissed his jaw before settling with his head on Geralt’s chest, listening to his worryingly slow but steady heartbeat.  
“I wish you’d stay with me, Geralt,” Jaskier said quietly after a minute. “But I know you won’t.”  
In reply, Geralt only sighed then settled into a soft snore.


End file.
